Chapter 288
The guards from the Shadows detail moved immediately to block the car’s path, hands resting on their sidearms.
“This is a restricted area, ma’am.”
Charla stepped out, unhurried, in a white Chanel suit and oversized sunglasses. She produced a document and held it out with two fingers.
“A direct authorization from Preston Holloway.”
The head guard took it, his face stone. “Our orders come from Mr. Hilliard Holloway.”
“And my orders come from the man who signs his checks,” Charla said pleasantly. “Call your superior. Mention the words ‘Old Guard Protocol.’ I’ll wait.”
The guard’s jaw tightened. He spoke quietly into his wrist communicator. A tense voice crackled back after a moment. His shoulders dropped in defeat.
He waved her through with a look of pure disgust. “Family matter. We log it and let the boss handle the fallout.”
Charla marched straight to Cailin.
“Enjoying the view?” she said, her smile sharp. “Take a good look. It’s the last time you’ll see it.”
Cailin didn’t stand. She looked up at Charla with the flat exhaustion of someone regarding a mild inconvenience.
“Fresh out of jail and already trespassing. You’re eager to go back.”
“Uncle Preston says this will be my garden,” Charla laughed. “And you? You’re just a surrogate he paid off.”
“Hilliard tore up the check,” Cailin said. “Guess I’m priceless.”
Charla’s face twisted. She raised her hand.
Cailin moved. She caught Charla’s wrist mid-swing, rose to her feet, and shoved.
Charla, balanced on six-inch stilettos, stumbled backward. Her heel caught the edge of the flowerbed.
Splash.
She landed in a patch of freshly watered mud.
“My suit!” Charla shrieked. “This is custom!”
“This isn’t your runway,” Cailin said, looking down at her. “Get out.”
Charla grabbed a fistful of wet mud.
“You bitch!”
She threw it.
Cailin sidestepped.
Splat.
The mud connected with a wall of grey wool.
Hilliard stood at the edge of the garden path. A thick glob slid slowly down the lapel of his suit.
Silence fell over the garden.
Charla went pale. “Hilliard — I… she pushed me…”
Hilliard looked at the mud on his jacket. Then at Charla, crouched in the dirt.
“Who let her in?” he asked the nearest guard.
“Sir, she invoked Old Guard Protocol. The authorization came directly from Mr. Preston’s office. Our hands were tied.”
“Preston doesn’t live here,” Hilliard said. “Revoke it. And throw this out.”
Two guards seized Charla by the arms and hauled her upright.
“Hilliard! I’m doing this for us!” she screamed as they dragged her toward the gate. “She’s poisoning you!”
Hilliard didn’t look at her. He turned to Cailin.
“Did she hurt you?”
He reached out.
Cailin stepped back. “Keep your dog on a leash, Hilliard.”
She turned and walked back toward the house, leaving him standing in the garden with mud on his jacket and something heavier on his chest.
The afternoon brought a secret visitor.
Ashely stood in the foyer with a travel bag over her shoulder. She had managed to secure a brief visitation pass from Gavin under the guise of delivering Elia’s essential medical history.
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